


WANF: Through Hell and High Water

by cyanideinsomnia



Series: Post-Banishment Lucio [8]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: AMAB Apprentice (The Arcana), Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Julian Devorak, Bottom Lucio (The Arcana), Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Cats, Character Death In Dream, Cock Warming, Double Anal Penetration, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Baggage, Exhibitionism, Existential Angst, Feral Behavior, Fist Fights, Guilt, Julian Devorak's Route, Lucio (The Arcana) Is A Little Shit, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Nonbinary Apprentice (The Arcana), Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overstimulation, Partial Mind Control, Pirate Julian Devorak, Post-Banishment Lucio (The Arcana), Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rimming, Rough Sex, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Sensory Deprivation, Size Difference, Size Kink, Submissive Julian Devorak, Submissive Lucio (The Arcana), Swordfighting, Teasing, Threesome - M/M/Other, Top Apprentice (The Arcana), Top Lucio (The Arcana), Touch-Starved, Trust Issues, Voyeurism, tail pulling, the only universe where the devil might care if he likes it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:53:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26230693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyanideinsomnia/pseuds/cyanideinsomnia
Summary: A collection of side stories for We Are Not Friends, SFW and NSFW.
Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak/Lucio (The Arcana), Apprentice/Lucio (The Arcana), Julian Devorak/Lucio (The Arcana), Julian Devorak/Lucio (The Arcana)/Original Character(s), Lucio (The Arcana)/Original Character(s), The Devil/Lucio (The Arcana)
Series: Post-Banishment Lucio [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1680019
Comments: 11
Kudos: 62





	1. Honeymoon Night

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [We Are Not Friends](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23358118) by [cyanideinsomnia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyanideinsomnia/pseuds/cyanideinsomnia). 



Lucio’s first honeymoon had been a blur, like his marriage. 

He knew he had been drunk - they were both drunk, he remembered thinking he liked her better like this - and it hadn't been as much of a failure as the marriage itself. There was a vague mental note there that said it may have even been fun.

This time he was stark sober, the only one wearing clothing between the three of them, a marked difference from his usual tendencies. A loose shirt and breeches between ugly purple scarring and pale fur and the rest of the world.. even if the world was just this room, with his spouses gazing up at him from the bed with something he hoped wasn’t  _ pity _ .

“Are you okay?” Julian asked.

“.. I don’t know.” He was nervously twisting his own tail in his hands. “I thought I was ready for this. I am ready. I  _ earned _ it. Didn’t I?”

“We have the room for a week, you don’t have to do it tonight.” Arsenic shrugged. 

“I-I want to.”

His husband frowned. “.. are you worried about the-- er,  _ changes _ ?”

The barest hint of a nod.

“I can assure you, at least from my perspective, you’re as handsome as ever.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s covered up,” Lucio sniffed, wincing as he twisted his tail fur too tight. 

Julian sighed. “I’ve seen it before, you know. In much worse circumstances.”

“That’s different! This is-- it’s supposed to be  _ special. _ Isn’t it? You just don’t bring a  _ monster  _ to something like this and expect it to be normal. It’s not. I’ve ruined it. I’m ruining it.”

He sank down in the nearest chair, away from the bed, fighting back tears. He couldn’t cry, that would make it even worse. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have just kept his mouth shut, dropped trou and let them take him however they wanted. 

He’d ruined the wedding, and likely the reception, and now he was ruining the honeymoon. He was going to ruin the whole marriage, too, just like the first one.

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have married me. I don’t deserve it.”

After a long moment, there was a creaking of springs, and then the warmth of a hand against his cheek, gently tipping his head up to face Julian. He was smiling, but there was clear pain in those grey eyes, and he found himself drawn to stare at the stain in the right.

“What was it you said before? I caught you, so I have to keep you or kill you?” He leaned in to press a gentle but brief kiss against his lips. “I’ve decided to keep you, and you’re just going to have to live with that.”

“That’s the rules.” Lucio attempted his own smile, which quickly faltered. “... I still don’t understand  _ why,  _ though. Even before-- all I did was cause problems. For both of you.”

“Because I love you.”

“But  _ why _ ??”

Arsenic sighed, but it sounded almost nostalgic. "I almost forgot, I have  _ two _ of those now."

"Be nice," Julian snorted, before turning his attention back to his husband. "Here, why don't you ask my heart?"

Before he could question  _ how _ , the other man gently tugged his head forward, turned to press the shell of his ear against his naked, hairy chest. His right hand immediately came up to hold him closer, clinging to him, blunted fingernails digging in the skin, and he felt the warm body shudder against him.

“This is stupid.” He dutifully gazed into the haze of hair against his cheek. "Okay then, Jules' heart.. why do you love me?"

He felt his pulse flutter, but nothing intelligible.

"What did it say?"

"Uh, something like 'wa-buh-bump'."

"There you have it, case closed." Julian grinned, glancing towards Arsenic. “Isn't that what yours said, dear?”

They snorted. "You said it sounded more like 'thump-a-thump', then asked if that was an arrhythmia or am I just happy to see you."

Despite that emotional fragility still hanging over his head, Lucio burst out into laughter, gently shoving Julian - whose face was now turning a beautiful crimson, clearly not expecting all of his secrets to be revealed like that - away from him. 

"You're such a fucking  _ doctor _ ."

"Remember, you chose this."

He took advantage of his own burst of confidence to finally start peeling himself out of his clothes, though after he was naked he remained on the chair, still not quite sure he was allowed to join them on the bed. Julian had crawled back on top of the covers, and looked somewhat perplexed he hadn't immediately followed.

"Do you want to just watch, first?" Arsenic asked, drawing their husband towards them with a firm grip on his neck. "You don't have to participate if you don't feel up to it, it's okay."

Their hand slid further up, fingers digging into Julian’s hair and abruptly yanking his head back to allow them to sink their teeth into his throat, eliciting a deep moan and a deeper shudder, his entire body leaning into them.

“U-unless you think you’d feel too _ jealous _ \--” Julian gasped, clearly struggling to remember what he was doing before. 

“I’m not jealous.” Maybe a little. “You didn’t really answer me.”

He watched their other hand trail further down his body, dark caresses on porcelain skin, running their fingernails across the surface, and all he could think is that that was a job for  _ claws.  _

“Well then-- nnmf-- wh-why do _ you _ love  _ me _ ?”

“.. I don’t know.”

That wasn’t the complete truth, he realized - but that was a deep pit filled with complex feelings and he’d barely grasped an understanding of the words on the surface, nevermind trying to  _ verbalize _ them all. 

Julian snorted, leaning away from hungry teeth long enough to give him a look. "You don't know? That's your answer? And here you wanted  _ me _ to give you an itemized list."

"You're better at that. Words.  _ Feelings _ . That stuff."

"You just want me to sing your praises while I'm getting fucked six ways to Sunday." There was a sly grin on his face, widening as Lucio spluttered, feeling his own face heat up. "Are you  _ sure _ you don't want to join in? I'm sure there's a few notes only  _ you _ know how to hit."

In an instant he remembered what was supposed to be happening tonight, what was happening right now, feeling like a complete fool for focusing on feelings when something more  _ pleasurable _ was at stake. He really had grown old.

As Arsenic’s hand drifted further down to grip Julian’s cock, he was drawn to do the same for his own, drawing a hiss through clenched fangs as it brusquely reminded him that it had not been touched in  _ years _ , a jolt of pleasure that was almost painful surging up his gut. 

“N-not yet. I want to hear you  _ beg _ for it.”

He forced himself to loosen his grip, leaning back against the chair to idly stroke, keeping it light to keep from bursting, thighs shifting apart to make sure his husband would get a good view of his own. A jagged grin was beginning to play on his lips, and he dropped his voice to a purr, watching goosebumps raise along bare skin as though he was right up against his ear. 

“Sing for me, Jules.”

“Mmf.. fuck..”

After a moment, he realized bright green eyes were carefully watching him rather than the writhing man in their grasp, piercing through that admittedly thin veil of casualness, a delightful flicker of almost predatory interest sending chills up his spine. 

Oh, he was  _ not _ prepared to be on the other side of his own stare.

“Feeling a little sensitive?” They purred.

He swallowed thickly. “.. it’s been a while.”

“I seem to recall asking if you wanted to  _ watch _ , not if you wanted to jerk off,” They continued, idly. “I wonder how long you can last without touching yourself. Or him.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Arsenic released their captive in order to get up and off the bed, pausing to smack his hand off his cock almost casually as they walked around to the back of the chair. Before he had the chance to escape, it was _moving_ , being pushed that much closer to the bed, until Julian - red, panting, sweaty, _needy_ \- was practically in his lap.

He wanted nothing more than to pull him the rest of the way over - but as he reached for him, a dark hand swatted his own again. “Just watching, no touching.”

“Oh, you are cruel,” Julian murmured as they crawled back onto the bed with him, their other hand bearing a bottle of oils. “Am _ I _ allowed to touch?”

“.. you know what, I’ll allow it. As long as you don’t touch his dick.”

Lucio whined, curling his fingers in the arms of the chair, shifting impotently against the seat. His body was already burning, cock aching for touch, any touch, even accidental, crying out that much harder just knowing it wasn’t allowed. “Wh-what-- what do I get if I win?”

“An orgasm, duh.” They reached over and gently squeezed his cock, eliciting a sharp gasp and a sharper jerk of his hips into their hand. “Hopefully one that’ll make up for lost time.”

Part of him wanted to ask how much time he’d lost. Another part told him he didn’t want to know.

“Once again, you don’t  _ have  _ to play, I just thought it might be fun,” Arsenic hummed, wetting their fingers with the oils before setting the bottle aside. “Lift your leg for me, dear.” 

One gangly leg raised, but apparently not to their satisfaction, as they threaded their arm under his knee and jerked it up higher, resting against their shoulder as they used the hand to tilt his head towards them in a kiss, the oiled one slowly stroking him between spread thighs, his hips angled in a way that was a bit more for display than pure pleasure, not that Julian seemed to mind.

His fingers dug tighter into the chair as theirs slipped inside him, stroking and massaging him, occasionally flexing to force a stretch, and he could see his legs were already beginning to shake around them, arching back against their grip, his whole body quivering in need. Sinking deeper in, knuckle-deep in him, pausing to pour more oils over their hand before forcing more fingers inside him, curling and stroking against him, watching his stomach muscles clench and relax, chest heaving, struggling to keep hold of his tormentor's lips.  


As Arsenic finally released his lips - and oh how he ached to lunge in and take them for himself, the taste of _desperation_ on his tongue - Julian’s upper body lurched forward with a soft whimper, catching himself with a hand propped on Lucio’s thigh, a sudden point of heat against his skin he wasn’t prepared for and craved all the same - and then it moved away, its absence more devastating than its presence.

“S-sorry, I-- ah-- meant to touch you  _ intentionally _ ,” Jules murmured.

“Touch me any way you want.” Was all he could think to say.

“You can’t be that close to bowing out, can you?” The captain chuckled, shifting their grip so that Julian was straddling their thighs, moving him as easily as wet clay. “We just started.”

Lucio only shook his head, the twitching of his tail just as maddening as the sound his husband was making as he slowly lowered himself onto their cock, hilting it inside him before slowly leaning forward again, bracing his hands on both of the older man’s thighs in lieu of the bed, digging his fingers into the beginning of his fur as they began to thrust.

He could feel as much as see them fucking him, bouncing him against their hips with the kind of force he knew he liked, one hand keeping him in place as the other curled around his cock, so close to him they might as well be stroking his own cock, his own hips twitching against the seat in time with the thrusts before him, sucking in a breath as for a brief moment he thought their bodies touched, a whisper of a brush of skin to skin, body burning more furiously in its wake.

Julian’s hands moved, gripping more than bracing as he bent down to press a kiss along his collarbones, then his throat, feeling the fabric of the chair begin to rip beneath his claws as the warmth of his tongue brushed along sensitive skin, his hands moving up along his thighs, stroking and caressing his hips, his waist, his chest, touching him as ravenously as he knew he wanted to touch him, blunted fingernails digging into his flesh, aching to draw him closer.  


The lips and tongue made it up to his own, trapping them in a deep and hungry kiss, and he heard a loud  _ crack  _ of the arm of the chair giving way beneath his golden hand, reduced to a fistful of fabric and splinters.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Arsenic’s voice marveled. 

Within moments the game was up and Lucio was pushing them both back against the bed, not even waiting for the other cock to disengage before he shoved himself inside Julian, eliciting a startled yelp and then a loud moan, his face twisted in an exquisite mix of pain and pleasure. 

The warmth of two sets of legs drew around him, two sets of fingers digging into his skin, drawing him closer to them, holding onto him as Arsenic set the pace again, following along after them until both sets of hips fell in step, fucking Julian in tandem. His own hands blindly groped and stroked any flesh he could reach, not caring who it belonged to, having just enough presence of mind to keep his claws sheathed when they skirted across darker skin.

He was drawn to keep kissing and then biting him, devouring him, teeth and lips and tongue as haphazard as his hands, tasting blood as he sank his fangs into Julian’s neck when the pace began to quicken, trying to hold on, trying to make it last-- 

A flood of pleasure tore through him like a storm wiping out a village, his first climax in gods only knew how long, surging through parts of his body he’d forgotten existed, muffling something he rather hoped wasn’t a bleat against Julian’s throat as his body collapsed onto him. Distantly he could feel Arsenic’s cock still rubbing up against his own, indicating that he was the first one out - but for the moment he was too far lost in the haze of afterglow for that thought to sting.

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he was lying on his back on the bed, his spouses comfortably resting on either side. He couldn’t remember moving. 

“Was that-- did I do good?” Lucio gasped out, before his pride had the chance to assert itself.

“A bit of  _ warning  _ next time might be nice,” Julian chuckled, followed by a lazy brush of lips against his cheek. “But I enjoyed it well enough.”

Arsenic sighed. “As the captain, I’ll take responsibility for blowing out your ass. I may have  _ underestimated  _ his-- uh, appetite.”

“Yeah, that’s absolutely on you.”

“Be nice, Lucio.”

He gave a dramatic sigh and reclined further against the bed, drinking in the warmth of them, his tail slowly twitching against the sheets. He felt calm, relaxed… and hungry.

“... can we go again??” 


	2. A Talk With Mazelinka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Meet me above decks in an hour." Her voice grunted, finally. "Bring a weapon, or don't, I don't care."
> 
> "Wh--"
> 
> "We're going to settle this like adults."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "i'm not good at fight scenes" i say as i have to write one out anyway because that's what the 'talk' was always going to be
> 
> unfortunately arsenic skipped this trial by fire to become a devorak bc mazelinka already saw how they harnessed julian's julianness in his route

The last time he'd seen her stout form in the galley, it had been as an ominous shadow he had to evade.

Though he was no longer wounded or being hunted, and in fact now belonged here just as she did, Lucio still felt that chill of primal fear as he stepped past Mazelinka's back, keeping her in his periphery as he followed the scent of something warm and fresh into the kitchen area.

Cookies. His prey was cookies. 

The left hand immediately slapped down on his tail to keep it from wagging, the right reaching for the pile, steam wafting off little bronze shapes, freshly baked--

A wooden spoon fell across his knuckles before he could make contact. 

"Not yet, Ilya."

Ilya?? He supposed he  _ was  _ wearing Jules' shirt, though he didn't think he was  _ that _ gangly.

He made another pass and she hit him again, across the same area, and this time he hissed a curse in pain. At once her body stiffened, probably realizing his identity-- bringing down the spoon hard enough he wondered if she broke something on the next stubborn reach, turning towards him with bloody murder in her eyes.

“ _ Fuck! _ ”

"Get out." She snapped.

"But I'm hungry," He whined, reaching for the cookies with his armored left hand this time, a satisfying clang of wood to metal as she tried to dissuade him again.

"I don't care, you get fed the same time as the rest of them. Out."

This time she thwacked him in the head with it, right between his horns, and without thinking he grabbed it and yanked it out of her hands, maintaining her gaze as he snapped it in half in his golden hand, scoring a victory for the version of himself that had battled it at the Devil's gate. The sliver of pride garnered from such an action - who's weak  _ now _ , bitch?? - drained out of him the moment he saw her face. 

If murder wasn't in her eyes before, it sure as hell was now.

"I'm sorry!" He yelped and dove for the spoon pieces on the floor, desperately trying to mash them back together as though they would somehow stick on their own.

Only to drop them in surprise when one worn boot abruptly pinned him on his back on the floor, her weight a bit more  _ substantial  _ than her height would indicate. He simply raised his hands in supplication, trying to show her he wasn't a threat. 

He realized he fucked up and he was trying to fix it, that was what they wanted, wasn't it??

"Drop the act." Mazelinka growled.

"What-- what act??"

"That one." Her eyes narrowed. "Pretending to be pathetic and harmless to get in my good graces. I've seen enough two-faced snakes in my time to know how to spot one."

He gave a shaky little pout. "I've only got the one face, thanks, and you're looking at it. I'm not that person anymore."

"A leopard can't change its spots, and sure as hell not that fast." She grunted. "I don't know how on earth you managed to trick my boy and my captain into trusting you, let alone  _ marrying  _ you, but it ain't gonna work on me. I know what you are."

_ My  _ boy. Oh, that sounds personal. 

It didn’t stop his heart from twisting, his teeth from feeling too sharp in his mouth, his tail from twitching against the floor. He knew his condition had nothing to do with it, it was the inside that she hated - but it still hurt. 

“Oh? What am I, then?” Lucio buried that hurt in a grin that resembled a snarl, letting her believe she was right. “Go on, we’re all _ friends _ here, you can tell me.”

For a moment it looked as though her conviction might slip.

“Say it.”

“A monster.”

_ Bastard! Monster! Why couldn’t you just stay where we put you, you wretched thing?! No one wants you here! _

He was expecting it, but it still felt like a blade in his chest, the too-familiar burn of tears at the corners of his eyes. Damn it, not now. How are you supposed to play the villain if you’re crying? He shook his head and shoved her boot off him with a growl.

“I bet there’s shit in your past bad enough I could say the same about you, too. I wonder how much Jules knows about that. Maybe I should ask him.”

“I’ve made peace with that part of me.” She grunted, but there was an edge of fear in her eyes.

“Believe it or not, I’m trying to do that too. So how come _ I  _ have to be the leopard that can’t change its spots, while  _ you _ get to be the friendly grandma?” He scowled as he sat up, tail beginning to lash against the floor. “I’m the monster, and you’re the matriarch. Sounds like _ someone’s _ a goddamn hypocrite.” 

She said nothing.

“Or are you upset because it’s like looking into a mirror? Are you scared that they’ll find out, now that they know what to look for? If I gained their trust, and  _ I’m _ a monster - what does that say about you? How long have you been running your long con?”

Without warning Mazelinka gripped the collar of his shirt and tugged him up onto his knees, swiftly blocking the instinctive swipe of his claws with another spoon as though she expected it, even before he'd fully registered he'd done it.

"I'm nothing like you."

"Prove it."

Her grip tightened. "I don't have to prove anything to you. This was  _ my _ ship first, boy, and while you're squatting on it I expect you to show some  _ respect _ \- lest our captain finds their little pity project has mysteriously hung himself in the rigging overnight."

Despite the chill of fear settling over him again and that very vivid image in his mind, he laughed.

"'I'm not like you' she says as she threatens to kill a man for the crime of saying things she doesn’t like. Go on, pull the other one."

She let him drop with a snort of disgust. "Get the hell out of my galley."

Lucio slowly pulled himself back up onto his hooves, brushing off invisible dust from his shirt and pants, tail twitching at his side. 

The smart option would be to quickly retreat while he still had the legs to do so with - but his pride and maybe something deeper still stung from being called a monster. He snatched up a cookie while she was more focused on posturing than protecting them, maintaining her gaze while he ate it.

"And here I thought you wanted to teach me a lesson," He scoffed, giving his best Count-like sneer. "I suppose all bluster and no followthrough runs in the 'family'."

He turned on his hooves with his nose in the air, pausing long enough to swipe the tufted end of his tail across her face before starting towards the door at an purposefully aggravatingly leisurely pace, leaving on his own terms.

.. or he would have, if it wasn't for the sudden vice grip on his tail, yanking him back towards her, nearly toppling him to the floor. Before he could think to pull it free, he felt the unmistakable hard edge of a blade pressed against his lower back, all the petty bravado of the moment draining out of him in an instant, leaving him paralyzed in her grasp.

"N-now, remember, Jules will be very upset if anything happens to me," He hated that he was shaking, wondering if she would take his tail instead. He didn't want to know what that would feel like. "You wouldn't want that, right?"

The blade faltered, but didn't move away. He closed his eyes and tensed, biting back a whimper, waiting for the pain of it either piercing through his gut or chopping off his tail, still trapped in her hand, nervously curling around its captor in lieu of his leg. He wasn't sure apologizing would save him, given how she treated the last one.

"Meet me above decks in an hour." Her voice grunted, finally. "Bring a weapon, or don't, I don't care."

"Wh--"

"We're going to settle this like  _ adults _ ."

***

If she was taller, he was younger and the air was colder, this would be uncomfortably similar to the final showdown with his mother, so many lifetimes ago.

It wasn't an axe in his hand, but a sword, but he even had the goatskin "boots".

"Last chance to back down, boy," Mazelinka grunted from across the deck, bearing her own sword with a pommel that had the worn edge of experience. "Before I have to beat the devil out of you."

The turn of phrase forced a sharp bark of laughter from his throat. She was a bit late for that.

" _ You _ challenged  _ me _ , you old bag." He was fully aware some might consider him an old bag in his own right, but it was the principle of the matter. "If you're scared you can't keep up, I will graciously accept your surrender."

Unlike that fateful night, this fight was gathering an audience, various crewmembers starting to crowd around the battlefield in various states of awe and alarm. They probably considered her the assured victor, given their history with her. He wondered how many of them had actually seen him fight.

He had stuffed his tail down in his pants and tied back his hair to remove those handholds, his left arm fully armored in case he lost his primary weapon, a very real risk given the purple bruising across the back of his right hand from the spoon. She was wearing her full pirate regalia, doubtlessly a show of arrogance, telling him she didn't  _ need _ to dress down to beat him. He would have done the same if he had any nice suits other than the one from the wedding.

He doubted this was a fight to the death like the one with his mother, given that it was the apparent  _ alternative _ to stabbing him through the gut, but he was taking no chances.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Julian’s voice cut through the murmur of the crowd, his husband rushing to his side as if he was already wounded.

“Stay out of this, Ilya.” His opponent snapped. “He has to learn his place.”

Lucio gently nudged the slightly taller man to the side, still wearing the grin of the villain. “She owes me a rematch from the Devil’s gate, I can’t possibly pass that up.”

“Neither of you are in any condition to fight! Especially how you clearly  _ intend _ to fight!” 

“Jules, I know you care about me,” And this was accented with a very sloppy kiss to his face while maintaining eye contact with his guardian. “But at this point, if you  _ don’t  _ let me fight, there  _ will  _ be consequences. Remember that thing about _ respecting my independence _ ?”

A flash of guilt ran through him at the look in Julian’s eye, the nervous whine as he slowly withdrew from the battlefield. “Let me be the judge, at least. Keep you both from fighting dirty. Or killing each other.”

“Do you promise not to bawl like a baby at first blood?”

“I’ve seen blood before. I  _ was  _ a doctor, you know.”

“What do you say, old bag?” He called.

Mazelinka made a noise of annoyed assent and hunkered down, sword ready.

He rolled his shoulders and shrugged, hunkering down as well, ready to fight.

Julian may have said something else - but in an instant the world was reduced to himself and his opponent across from him, the gleam of her sword nearly glowing, his pulse pounding like war drums, body burning with raw energy like a tiger finally let out of his cage.

Ready to fight.

It was like his mercenary days all over again, except his muscles were seasoned with experience, his mind sharper than his new teeth, his instincts trained on creatures much more dangerous than she could imagine. It wasn’t a creature facing him now, hungry and stupid, or one of the Arcana, inscrutable and powerful - but a  _ person _ , intelligent and capable of planning, someone on his own footing.

He’d caught a taste of something like this at the Devil’s gate, another lifetime ago, before they put him in the dirt. He was still so hungry.

The energy burning in his bones wouldn’t let him wait for her to come to him, driving him to make the first move, charging towards her at a full run. She leapt aside and swept her blade for his spindly animal legs, caught by his own blade before it could make contact, twisting around to kick her across the deck with one hoof.

She may have hit a nearby barrel a bit harder than anticipated, as he didn’t know the strength of these legs, and for a moment he thought that was the disappointing end of it. 

But then she was up again, closing the gap in an instant, her blade catching his on the downswing, twisting it out of his grip and punching him in the face before he’d fully recovered, staggering back and stumbling to his knees on the floor. 

He caught a flash of silver in the corner of his eye and lashed out at it with his golden hand, catching the blade mid-swing and attempting to push it back, both of her arms immediately focused on straining against him, pushing the pointed end nearer and nearer to his face, his body closer to the deck.

Lucio abruptly twisted around and butted her in the chin with his horns, rolling away to snatch up his fallen sword while she was still reeling, bringing it up in front of his face in time for a volley of frenzied blows while he was still on his back and hadn’t the leverage to push her away with his arms, arching back to grab her and throw her over his head with both elongated animal feet instead.

There was a distinct  _ thump-thump _ of her boots hitting the deck instead of her body, and once again he rolled out of the way of her wrath, swiping at her sword with his own and his claws at her legs at the same time - the latter quickly stopped by her boot slamming down on his arm, pinning it to the deck. 

He growled and twisted his hand to grab the leg, yanking on it as hard as he could to bring her down to his level, both of their swords clattering across the deck without their notice. She immediately pounced the rest of the way on top of him, pinning him on his back on the floor once more.

In lieu of a weapon, she promptly slugged him again, hard enough he could taste blood. And again, and again, until he grabbed her hand with his armored left, spitting out a sharpened tooth.

“Feeling better yet?” He croaked.

“No.” She grunted. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“I haven’t had a real fight with a real person in years, of course I’m enjoying it. What, did you want me to cower beneath you and cry for mercy as you beat me like a dog?”

Mazelinka gave another disgusted snort. “Is that what you expected  _ me  _ to do?”

“Hell no. You nearly kicked my ass with a spoon, you  _ better _ be giving it your all with a sword.” He could feel his trapped tail starting to wag, body still bristling with excitement. “Do you still want to kill me? We can go for a few more rounds.”

“I wasn’t intending to kill you, this is a  _ spar _ .” 

“I know that.” He may not have completely realized that until she just said it. “I just meant, you know -- _ catharsis. _ Working off the urge to murder.” 

He beamed up at her as if this was the most normal thing, which, in fairness, in his tribe it was. 

She raised her fist as if she was going to punch him again, but was clearly put off by his smiling. Finally she groaned and got off him, sticking out one stocky hand that he took without question, letting her pull him to his hooves. In return he picked up their swords, handing hers back.

“.. I’m going to call this one a draw.” She grumbled.

“You can stop looking away now, Jules.” He laughed. “Grandma says we’re evenly matched.”

Julian slunk off the sidelines, immediately moving to pat at the blood on his face, checking him over for any further injuries. There was a look of relief in his eyes - he’d clearly expected them to take it further.

“That’s not what I said.”

“Grandma says she threw her back out and had to forfeit.”

“Stop it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i realize he technically fought portia before this, however, he still thought he was fighting for his life
> 
> this is the 1st fight with /no consequences/ he had in a long time


	3. Petting Pepi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shh.” Lucio hissed, eyes not moving from his prize. “Don’t move, Jules. There’s a cat under the bed.”
> 
> “A cat?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a cat meets a goat, serotonin ensues?

The first thing Julian noticed when he awoke was he was the only one in the bed, despite usually being the first one up between them.

The second was the edge of onyx horns and slowly twitching tail of his husband, who was crouched next to the bed with an expression of determination and almost predatory fascination on his face, very clearly staring at something beneath it. 

“What are--”

“ _ Shh _ .” Lucio hissed, eyes not moving from his prize. “Don’t move, Jules. There’s a  _ cat  _ under the bed.”

“A cat?”

He slowly blinked, trying to remember why there would be a cat under the bed at sea, and if he needed to tell Arsenic they had to change course and deposit it somewhere dry. Hopefully he wasn’t cornering the cat to  _ eat  _ it, given the look in his eye; he wasn’t sure how to ask that without it being ill received.

“What’s it look like?”

“Cream colored, kinda slinky, brown points and big blue eyes.”

“Oh, that’s just Pepi. Pasha’s cat.” He yawned and sat up on the bed, taking a moment to stretch, moving no more carefully than normal now that he knew the cat’s identity. “Used to be the ship’s cat, mostly just a pet.”

“ _ Pepi?? _ ” He looked delighted. “That’s so cute. Pepi, Pepi. Come here, Pepi.”

“I don’t know why she’s in  _ our  _ room. Pasha must’ve left the door open.” 

Lucio beamed up at him, eyes bright. “She came to see  _ me _ , of course. Animals  _ love _ me. Here, I’ll show you.”

Before he could question this, the older man ducked beneath the bed, only his back end and his raised tail visible for a long moment. He could hear some very upset-sounding peeping growing louder amidst the quiet murmuring of his voice, and he realized what he was trying to do.

“Look, hey, it’s okay, I’ve got you--” 

“If you wait long enough she should come out on her own,” Julian began, nervously. He couldn’t remember Pepi’s opinion of strangers, nevermind how she’d handle this one. “You don’t have to--”

The figure beneath the bed finally pulled back, proudly holding a squirming cat in his arms, eyes still bright and maybe a bit oblivious to her impending wrath. 

“Settle down, I’m not gonna hurt you-- I just wanna--”

Pepi let out a sound closer to a shriek and twisted in his grip in order to slash her claws across his face, forcing him to drop her. He wasn’t going to tell him how closely it resembled his own actions on their first reunion.

She immediately hissed and scampered out into the hall while her former captor was still reeling, his flesh hand slowly rising up to press against the small beads of blood rising along his cheek, a genuinely shocked and betrayed look in his eyes, staring out where she had gone.

“She.. she  _ attacked _ me.”

Tears began to bead up in his eyes, tail coiling tightly around his body, expression crumpling.

“Does this mean-- do animals  _ hate  _ me now?? Is that part of my curse??” He whimpered, staring helplessly up at his husband as if he could fix this. “I don’t wanna live in a world where animals hate me, Jules. I can’t do it. I can’t live like that.”

“Hey, now, I’m sure animals don’t hate you,” Julian sighed, rolling the rest of the way out of bed in order to gently hold him.

“Yeah they do. Malak did, she does.” He immediately buried his face into his shoulder with a loud sob. “That’s too many. That’s all the animals on this ship. I should’ve just stayed with the Devil. At least I know why _ he _ hates me.”

“Cats are a bit more..  _ sensitive  _ than dogs. She may not have wanted you to touch her like that.”

Now he outright  _ wailed.  _ “I didn’t hurt her! I swear! I just wanted to pet her!”

“Yes, but-- think of it this way,” He shifted to pull him into his lap, gently stroking his hair. “What if it was  _ you _ hiding under the bed, and some stranger came to grab you? They’re very large, you don’t know their intentions, and their hands are on you. How would you feel?”

Lucio shuddered and tensed against him, digging his claws in his shirt. 

Guilt immediately coiled in his gut, stroking his hair a bit more thoroughly. “You can-- you can stop thinking about it, now. No one is coming to get you. That was a bad comparison, I’m sorry.”

“I really am a monster, aren’t I?” He sniffled and slowly loosened his grip. “Poor Pepi.”

“Pepi is okay, it’s okay, I have complete faith you didn't hurt her.” Pressing a soft kiss to his lips to distract him further from that line of thought. “Maybe later we can ask Pasha to let you meet her properly. How’s that sound?”

In an instant his watery eyes were bright again. “.. I’m allowed to meet her? Do you think we can be friends??”

“That’s up to Pepi.”

***

Lucio was despondent the whole day after that, sulking across the ship, lying across the floor near where he seemed to expect Pepi would go, hoping for a glimpse of cream fur or a pointed ear, occasionally murmuring her name into the dark and withdrawing to sulk again when she never came.

It carried throughout suppertime, barely eating anything, mostly focused on mashing his food into vague animal shapes and looking like he was about to start crying again when Mazelinka finally took them away from him. 

One resembled a cat, the other his dogs. 

Oh, this went much deeper than Pepi spurning him. 

Julian had intended to give it another day or two, to make absolutely sure Pepi wouldn't still be mad at him - but given his behavior now, he wasn’t sure if his husband would make it until then.

“Pasha, come here a second,” He whispered, gently tugging his sister aside.

“What is it?”

“Would it be okay if we had an official meet and greet with Pepi?” He jerked his head towards Lucio, who was just sitting at the table now, staring at nothing. “He, ah. Met her earlier, in a way. It didn’t end well. He thinks animals hate him.”

“Is _ that _ what he’s upset about?” Portia frowned, following his gaze. “I thought he was just having another ‘oh no I’m a monster’ day.”

As though he knew he was being watched, Lucio abruptly dropped his head onto his arms on the table with the deepest, most dramatically despondent sigh he had ever heard come from a living being, sounding like his soul was escaping his body. One of those hands started absently picking at one of his horns, brows furrowed, looking rather like he was considering ripping it off his head.

Julian sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I can’t be sure it’s not a bit of that, as well. I just want him to have a good experience with an animal that isn’t Malak. What do you say?”

“Sure, I’ll bring my cat, and you bring your goat.”

***

Portia led both men to her quarters, where Pepi was already curled up on her bed in a comfortable snooze. 

“I was wondering where she went.” She was saying, flopping down on the bed next to her cat, barely stirring beyond a little  _ peep _ . “Should probably look into getting a bell collar.”

“I might say the same for Lucio.” He chuckled, grinning at the flush of red creeping up his husband’s face.

Portia’s nose wrinkled in exaggerated disgust, playfully shoving at him as he took a seat next to her on the bed. “God, Ilya, _ don’t, _ I don’t wanna know what you  _ married people _ get up to.”

She plucked up Pepi and pulled her into her lap, and Julian reached over to gently scritch her behind the ears. It took him a moment to realize Lucio was still standing awkwardly in the doorway, tail curled around one leg, looking as nervous as if he’d told him they were meeting up with the Countess.

“It’s alright, she’s not gonna bite.” 

“I don’t wanna scare her again.” He said quietly, looking between both humans for approval. “Are you  _ sure _ it’s okay?”

Portia snorted. “You’re not  _ that  _ scary. She’ll be fine as long as you don’t bum-rush her.”

One hoof very slowly, awkwardly slid forward, freezing in place as Pepi’s ears twitched. He looked as if he was about to bolt, as if he wasn’t supposed to be here.

After a moment of further deliberation, his husband slowly lowered himself to the floor, slinking toward the bed on all fours like an animal in his own right. He must have figured he was too tall to approach her normally, nevermind the fact that she had dealt with taller, ganglier men. Julian noted his sister looked as if she was about to comment on this, and shook his head.

In his current fragile state, anything she would say would likely send him fleeing back to their room to hide for the next several days, and that was the best case scenario.

Lucio stopped mid-creep and hunkered down as Pepi’s eyes began to open, flashing her little needle teeth in a yawn before blinking blearily at him. Her tail tip twitched, ears lowered a bit, but she didn’t move to run away, simply watching him like a tiny furry judge. 

His own tail was low to the floor in apparent submission, eyes flickering between cat and human, still unsure.

“Let her smell your hand, first,” Her owner said gently.

He hesitantly lifted his right hand from the floor, very carefully extending his scarred fingers out towards her. They were visibly trembling. “It’s okay, Pepi. I’m sorry.”

Her little brown nose was already twitching as she began to lean her head forward, ears still back, cautiously sniffing all over his hand. Julian found himself desperately hoping she wouldn’t decide to hiss or bite, shattering his confidence that much further. He was already cringing back as if he expected her to attack.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of cautious sniffing, Pepi rubbed her cheek against his hand, purring. 

“I think you can pet her, now.” Julian supplied.

His eyes were wide and shocked, for the moment just watching her rub on him. “I-- I can?”

“Well, either that or she’s gonna use your hand to pet herself.” Portia chuckled.

Very carefully, almost reverently, Lucio curled his fingers in her fur, gently stroking her head and shoulders, down her body, his tail beginning to wag as her purring was that much louder. If he had the capability to purr, he’d likely be doing it too.

“She’s so soft. I love her.” He murmured, scritching her chin. He looked like he was about to cry again, this time in relief. “Can I hold her?”

“I dunno, she gets wiggly really easily.”

He paused mid-pet, and the distant look in his eye indicated he may have been envisioning a whole new disastrous sequence involving a wiggly cat and his own, admittedly  _ violent _ reflexes. 

“Oh. Okay. We don’t have to do that, Pepi.”

Pepi gave an inquisitive little  _ peep _ , and his eyes grew even bigger and brighter. 

“Is  _ that _ why she’s called Pepi? Peep peep??” She peeped again, as if in response. “Oh my god. She’s so damn  _ cute _ . Peep peep peep.”

_ Pee-peep! _

“Peep peep?”

_ Peeeep. _

“Peep!”

Portia was struggling not to laugh, both hands covering her mouth, her own eyes glittering with delight. “Are-- are you having a nice conversation, there?? What are you telling my cat?”

“I have no idea!” Lucio laughed and turned his attention back to Pepi. “D’you think we can be friends? Peep?”

She peeped and bunted her head against his hand.


	4. Entertaining The Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And here I thought one of the tenets of friendship was honesty,” He was grinning. “Now it’s your turn - did you think I wouldn’t notice what you were doing with my tie to your realm?”
> 
> His gut clenched in something between fear and excitement, nearly flooring him again.
> 
> “I-- uh. I figured you wouldn’t pay attention to that. Since it’s-- you know. Me enjoying myself. You hate that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall know what fucking time it is!!
> 
> (and yes, arsenic had to open the booty portal for him)

“I can’t believe you _kept_ that.”

Lucio paused amidst trailing kisses down Julian’s bare chest, for a moment not sure what he would be talking about, until he followed his gaze to the skull mask currently pinned to the wall above the bed like an eerie sentinel.

“You don’t see me questioning weird trinkets _you_ keep around.” He scoffed, resuming kissing and stroking him, relishing in the needy little moan that escaped his throat. “.. do you want to try it on?”

Julian was steadily turning red, eyes wide. “While we’re--?? Do you _want_ to curse your dick?”

He laughed and released him to pull it down, feeling a brush of red in his mind, wondering if he should tell him. Then again, he was pretty sure the Devil would withdraw the moment he realized what they were doing. 

.. though the chance he _wouldn’t_ may have excited him, in a way, that simple thrill of doing something _naughty_ where an authority might see. He wondered what he’d do if he caught him.

“My dick’s already cursed by you, what more do I have to lose?”

“Wh-- I am not a dick witch. I haven’t bewitched any dicks. That I’m aware of.” He was growing redder by the second, like an adorable tomato. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Lucio shrugged and settled back down next to him on the bed with his prize, idly toying with it in his hands. “You don’t _have_ to wear it, I was just wondering how it might look on you. It isn’t that much different from one of those plague masks, is it?”

Julian wordlessly tugged it out of his hands, staring at it as if it currently had the plague. He supposed the Devil’s energy wasn’t as oddly comforting to others as it was to him. He glanced up at him, then at the mask, then back again, a clear war between morbid curiosity and sensibility. 

“I had been wondering how you could _see_ in this damn thing.” He muttered.

Finally he carefully pulled it down over his head, until a gray eye peeked through one empty socket, and a mess of auburn bangs crowded the other. 

“Well? What do you think?”

“.. it’s rather comfortable, for a skull.”

Suddenly he was on his back on the bed, Julian pinning him down and straddling his waist, a flash of something deliciously predatory in his visible eye. “A bit _too_ comfortable, I think. Like it’s always been here. Are you sure it’s not cursed?”

“I-- uh. I don’t think so.” It took him a moment to recover, feeling his pulse flutter and his breath quicken, not expecting the other man to take the lead. “You can take it off, if you want.”

“... no, I think you like it.”

There was a jagged grin beneath the edge of the mask, sending a shiver up his spine. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a kink for the Devil, now.” His grip on his naked body was that much rougher, burying blunted teeth in his neck like fangs, so much more _dominant_ than he usually was in bed, at least with him. Falling into the role he was wearing so easily. It was intoxicating. “I thought _I_ was the masochist.”

“Shut up. It’s not like that.”

“So you _don’t_ want me to fuck you senseless while I’m wearing it?”

He moved as if to remove it, and without thinking Lucio slapped a hand down between the horns, keeping it in place on his head, heat flooding his face as he heard a chuckle muffled against his throat. 

“It’s _absolutely_ like that.” Julian snorted. 

“Stop talking and start _fucking_ , damn it.”

***

“You realize you don’t _have_ to bring your physical body to the realms.” The Devil mused.

“Without it, it’s just my soul hanging around, right?” Lucio shuddered. “If I look like _this_ on the outside, I don’t wanna know _what_ I look like on the inside.”

He had a feeling it was a lot closer in appearance to the regal figure reclining in his throne than he would like, maybe even an exact copy of him except smaller and bearing a golden arm. He shook the image from his head and approached the dais with forced casualness, as if this was a normal thing one does, just popping by to say hi to a friend in the magical realms.

The fact that he had no idea what he was going to do or say to him when he got up there was another matter. He had promised him entertainment, he would figure _something_ out. He was winging it. 

He probably shouldn’t have come.

“Hm. You stink of fear and sex.”

Heat flooded his face, stumbling mid-casual stride with a startled squawk, garnering deep, unsettling laughter. “You can’t just SAY that to people.”

“And here I thought one of the tenets of friendship was _honesty_ ,” He was grinning. “Now it’s your turn - did you think I wouldn’t notice what you were doing with my tie to your realm?”

His gut clenched in something between fear and _excitement_ , nearly flooring him again.

“I-- uh. I figured you wouldn’t pay attention to that. Since it’s-- you know. Me enjoying myself. You hate that.”

He couldn’t remember coming close enough for the Devil to curl his fingers into the collar of his shirt, his pulse fluttering as he pulled him that much closer, enough for him to feel the heat of his breath against his skin. He wasn’t sure what he intended to _do_ with him now that he’d caught him, and that only added to the excitement.

The grin hadn’t moved, and in fact was that much wider and more predatory, sending a shiver down his spine. “Tsk, I can appreciate some things I hate. You gave me entertainment and expected me to look away?”

“It was just-- _hnn_ …”

His other hand was casually winding down his body, rough fingers slipping into the front of his pants, lightly brushing against his cock. Instinctively he arched into the touch, a soft whimper escaping him in surprise. He hadn't expected this. He hadn't thought _that_ would be on his mind at all, let alone regarding him.

“You looked so beautiful writhing beneath me,” The beast murmured, idly stroking him. “Perhaps you would be willing to give me a more _personal_ show?”

He wanted to question it. He wanted to move away. He wanted him to keep touching him. His hips were starting to twitch, leaning his weight into his hand and grinding against him.

“Y-you.. want to _fuck_ me..?” Was all he could think to say, and then a breathless little chuckle escaped him before he could stop it, stop _talking_ , you’re ruining it. “With what? Do you even have anything down there??”

At once the hand withdrew, nearly collapsing into his lap without its support. 

“Impudent worm. You don’t _deserve_ my attention in that regard.”

His cock was hard, aching against the fabric of his pants, causing him to shift and whine, so close to just grabbing the hand and putting it back. “I-I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” The Devil huffed, but he was grinning again. “But you will be.”

Lucio shuddered, and found himself slowly removing his clothing as if compelled, something of an additional show for his monstrous host. Perhaps because he was being watched, this time his pants glided down his animal legs almost effortlessly, freeing his aching cock and his twitching tail from the fabric with another shudder of relief.

Now he stood as naked as the Devil before him, unable to feel anything but an odd sort of pride as those cold crimson eyes carefully roved down his body, broad fingers lightly trailing along his thigh where flesh faded into fur in clear approval. Of _course_ he would approve of his half-demonic state, he’d been responsible for most of it.

“Like what you see?” He attempted his own grin and a shift of his hips in a more sensual pose.

“Mm, needs a bit more fur, but it will do.”

Against his better judgment, he allowed those broad hands to pull him up into his lap, straddling one furred thigh as though he belonged there. “And people say _I’m_ a narcissist.”

“Oh, you do intend to make me regret this at every step of the way, don’t you?” The Devil mused, cradling his face in one hand in a mockery of tenderness. “At which point in our _friendship_ am I allowed to tell you to stop speaking?”

“For you? Probably never. You have to _earn_ that right.”

"Is that so?" 

Next to his thigh, he noticed something thick and dark was emerging from otherwise featureless fur between his captor's legs, and it took him a moment to realize it was a cock, given its sheer size. It may have given him that effect of _speechlessness_ he'd wanted, at least for the moment, too busy taking it all in to comment on it.

"Get a good look," Its owner purred. "You're going to become _quite_ acquainted with it."

His other hand was at his ass, tightly gripping one bare cheek, thumb pressing up between them and starting to rather roughly stroke him there, for the moment staying on the outside, running around the rim. He shivered and tentatively leaned into it, feeling his thighs shift further apart, his tail lifting for easier access.

It was almost too much on its own, little jolts of pain and pleasure rolling up his spine with each stroke. He wasn't sure if he could make it to the main event. 

"Please-- be gentle." He blurted out, heat flooding him, immediately ashamed of making such a request. Of admitting that weakness. "I-- I haven't done this in a while, okay?"

The stroking paused, grip on his ass loosening up. He'd definitely ruined it now, he just knew it.

"D-don't stop," Lucio quickly added. "Just be gentle."

After a moment the hands moved away regardless, and he felt himself withdrawing as well, whimpering an apology in the hopes it might get him to forget he'd said anything. The beast's expression was contemplative more than anything, markings that served as brows slightly raised.

"You do need a bit more preparation, don't you?" He gave a shameful little nod, tail curling around his body. "Turn around-- and stop _sniveling_. You'll enjoy it."

Lucio slowly turned around as ordered, now facing the rest of the throne room, awkwardly remaining on his hands and knees in wait for the next direction. He let out a surprised yip as both broad hands gripped his hips and pulled his ass up, until his legs were propped against broad shoulders, hooves in open air, and his face was pressed against the larger cock.

The hands pushed his ass cheeks wider apart, giving more clearance for the feeling of a velvet soft snout and a thick, hot tongue to bury themselves between them, taking to the sensitive flesh like a starving creature at a feast. It was a bit frightening, yet at the same time exhilarating, an edge of danger as he felt the scrape of fangs against his skin. 

He gasped and arched up into that hungry mouth, tail lifting again in an instant, his thighs already trembling as he felt the tongue press inside him, so much deeper than a human tongue would ever be able to go, nearly filling him, stretching him, lapping up against his inner walls with the same terrifying veracity.

"Oh fuck.." He breathed, for the moment unable to do much more than ride that tongue, knowing he should do _something_ in return but he couldn't move, practically melting in his mouth, drawn in by the sensation deep inside him, the hot breath against him, around him, devouring him.

He distantly wondered if it would feel this good if he hadn't brought his physical body, or if that was a privilege specific to the meat. Then the hands at his ass were spreading him even further, the heat of saliva soaking more thoroughly down his legs and cock, and he hardly wondered about anything.

Trembling hands curled around the thick black cock left unattended before him, one part stroking it, one part using it as an anchor as he drowned in pleasure, holding onto it for dear life. Their positioning didn’t allow him to try sucking it, and he wasn’t sure it was going to fit in his mouth besides, instead leaning forward and imitating the tongue inside him along the obsidian shaft as well as he could, feeling a deep rumbling between his legs he realized was some kind of groan or purr in response and _oh_ he wanted more of that.

For the moment the world around him was reduced to the heat of the thing in his grip, and the heat of the mouth devouring his ass, his own panting and moaning becoming distant, like they were coming from someone else, miles away.

The idea to stop him flickered through his mind a moment too late, muffling a sharp cry against the larger cock as a climax not unlike his first time in a long time at the honeymoon ripped through him, the heat of his own cum mixing with the spit along his thighs, absolutely coated in it.

His legs felt like jelly, draped along his shoulders like a half-furred scarf, unable to move them himself and shivering as the large hands moved them for him, once again seated in the Devil’s lap, still soaking wet, a slimy heat between his legs he couldn’t ignore, nearly unbearable in afterglow. He could still feel echoes of that tongue inside him, writhing against him, little shocks of pleasure making it very hard to sit still.

“Oh, _fuck_ …” He flopped back against the fur as he gathered himself, gasping for breath despite not being the one with his snout shoved into someone else’s ass.

Said snout was soon at his ear, purring, “Are you ready for the next step?”

“F-fuck..” Lucio gasped, gazing down at the larger cock near his splayed, trembling thighs. His body was likely as relaxed and _malleable_ as it was going to get. “I.. I think so. Just-- take it slow.”

The Devil chuckled. “Slow _and_ gentle? I’m not going to _break_ you so easily.”

“That thing is as big as my arm.”

“I thought you liked a challenge.”

The hands were at his hips again, surprisingly gentle as they lifted him up over the cock, slowly lowering him as though he knew he was in no position to move himself. His fingers curled into the fur of the arms supporting him, tightening his grip as he felt the tip slip inside him, feeling the girth of it increasing as he was eased further down, stretching him almost painfully.

Once again the thought to stop him came too late, as it was completely inside him, fur against his ass and the tip pressing up against his guts, filling him, visibly distending his stomach. He ran a hand along the skin there, feeling the hard outline and its heat soaking through him, another low purr escaping its owner, rumbling deep inside him. 

“Mm, right where you belong,” The Devil hummed, one broad hand coming down to stroke his distended stomach and down to his own cock. Immediately he arched into it, whimpering at the shift of pressure inside him. 

After a moment the hand clamped down, holding him in place as the large hips shifted, turned, and now he was lying on his back with the cock still inside him, the Devil having kicked up his heels and draped lazily across his throne with no intention of _moving_. 

“Wh-what are you--?” He managed, squirming against him, unable to move with the hand pinning him in place.

“You requested _slow_ , didn’t you?”

Lucio spluttered. “Slow doesn’t mean stop!” 

A deep chuckle reverberated through the furred chest against his back and the cock buried in his guts, an odd but not unwelcome sensation. The other hand lifted, and what looked like a scroll of parchment with unintelligible words softly glowing red appeared in its grasp in a swift burst of flame.

He.. he was reading. He was _reading_ instead of fucking.

“Just _relax_. Savor it.” The deep voice murmured against his ear. “This is not a privilege given freely, you know - many mortals would give up everything to be in your place.”

He whined and jerked his hips up into the hand keeping them prisoner, sliding right back down to the base of the shaft with a deep shudder. “Y-yeah? What do _I_ have to give up in order for you to bend me over and _rail me through your damn throne_ like I thought you were going to?”

“Oh, make no mistake, I plan to _destroy_ you. Just not yet.”

That tone hit a lot differently while he was already inside him. It wouldn’t take very much to destroy him at all, he realized. 

He shivered and arched back, letting his legs hang looser around it, leaning his head back against the fur and closing his eyes. He could feel it pressing up against his skin with every breath and unconscious shift of his body, its heat smoldering inside him, on the edge of burning. His muscles were already relaxed around it, the pressure inside him more pleasurable than painful, maddeningly still and solid. 

After a long moment the broad hand against him relaxed as well, returning to idly stroking his stomach and cock, feeling it hardening again the longer he was forced to lie there impaled. It was so hard to stay _still_ , steadily driving him insane, unable to stop the little impotent twitches of a body used to energetic movement, far too keyed up to relax. 

He curled his fingers into the fur beneath him with a soft groan and tried not to think about it, couldn’t help but think about it, it was all he could feel and think about, god this was hell and heaven all in one thick, throbbing package.

Time stretched over him like taffy, reminding him it was no longer linear. He could have been here for hours, days, months, years, centuries. The stroking along his body wasn’t consistent, making it hard to track - sometimes that hand would move up to his hair, sometimes it just laid there on top of him, heavy and inescapable. 

The burning, solid heat buried deep in his guts, pressed against his thighs and forcing them apart, dominating his lower half, every vein and ridge so _palpable_ against his skin - that was the only consistency. Maybe it had always been there. Maybe it would always be there. He could do this forever and they both knew it.

“What… what are you reading?” Lucio murmured after a moment longer, more a breath than words, shuddering as this forced his gut to press down on the cock inside him regardless. “Can I see?”

“You wouldn’t be able to understand it,” The Devil’s voice responded laconically, vibrating through him all over again. He sounded almost _bored._

“T-try me.”

His eyes opened as he felt the warm body shifting against him, arching forward to bring him closer to the scroll rather than the scroll towards him, the sudden shift in pressure forcing a loud moan out of him, practically squeezing it out of his gut, his thighs clamping down on the thick shaft for stability. 

The red words were no less unintelligible from here, and in the corner of his eye he could see the edge of a grin playing on animal lips. “I can totally read that, I don’t know what you mean.”

“What is it, then?” Oh, his voice vibrating his body in this position was so much worse.

“It’s-- uh.” He squinted harder, hoping to glean _something_ from it he could adequately bullshit while his body was swarmed with sensation. “I-it’s a contract. Duh. What else would you be reading? Don’t tell me you’re into _poetry_.”

The Devil outright _laughed_ , bouncing him against the cock and the hand, bringing him that much closer to the breaking point. He shuddered and groaned, spreading his legs again to take some of the pressure off, body trembling in his grasp.

“Just because _you_ haven’t an ounce of refinement in your being doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the occasional sonnet.” 

A slight pause, and another maddening chuckle, giving his stomach a good squeeze.

“Well, I suppose there is _some_ refinement in your being, at the moment.”

 _“Hnn_ \-- y-yeah, I feel so goddamn sophisticated right now. Practically the king of culture.” He gasped, panting, drowning, his grip on anything but pure _need_ steadily slipping. 

A deep purr against his ear once more. “Not too cultured to _beg_ for me, I hope?”

The word flipped something inside him like a switch, opening the floodgates for all the desperation gathering there as he lay trapped.

“Oh god.. fuck me.. fuck me now, _please_ … I-I can’t take much more, I need it..” 

“ _Mm_.. that is my favorite kind of poetry.”

Against his expectations, the hands pulled him _off_ the thick cock, leaving him cold and empty and confused, his legs likely in no shape to support his weight, his body limp and malleable in the Devil’s grip as the beast slowly stood up.

Suddenly he was pinned down face-first on the seat of the throne, still warm, almost too warm, broad hands tightly gripping his hips once more, his legs automatically sliding wide open to allow the heat and thickness of his cock to push inside him again, now _more_ than welcome, not an ounce of pain, only ecstasy as he began to thrust, deep and fast and not gentle in the slightest, but he was beyond caring about that, it felt so _good._

He wasn’t aware how close he had been to breaking just holding it inside him until cum was splashing across the front of the throne, smearing along his thighs and across his stomach as the Devil continued to pound into him regardless. He couldn’t bring himself to stop him, didn’t _want_ to stop him, hooking his claws into the smooth obsidian and arching back against him with a desperate, needy whimper, trying to push it deeper inside him, all the way in.

“You want more?”

“ _Please_..”

Distantly he felt one hand move from his hip to the base of his tail, fingers lightly stroking the fur before curling around it - and then _yanking_ back, slamming his ass into the Devil’s hips, forcing him the rest of the way inside him, his hooves lifting from the floor for a moment. He felt another startled bleat escape his throat, pain rippling up his spine.. and yet he found he _liked_ it.

“Oh.. oh, fuck..” The pace had picked up, and he was trapped against him by the grip on his tail, holding his hips up by it. “Keep.. keep doing that..”

“Discovering things about yourself, are you?” The beast purred. 

He whimpered and buried his face in his arms, arching up that much further, trying to recapture that momentary feeling of weightlessness. “If.. if this is from you.. does that mean _you_ \--” 

“Tsk, as if you’d have the opportunity to find out.”

Another burst of cum splashed across the throne, further soaking his thighs, this time accompanied with another sound he wasn’t going to call a bleat, but it may have been, if the low chuckle against his ear was any indication.

“I do not do _that_ , in case you were wondering.”

Despite the fact that he wouldn’t be able to see it, he was grinning. “A-are you getting close? Maybe-- maybe we’ll find out.”

The thrusts paused, and then suddenly he was on his back on the throne instead, the Devil gripping his legs and hiking them up around his waist, bearing down on him with his full weight. He could barely see a hint of obsidian between his thighs, staying deep inside him, jolting his whole body up against the throne with each thrust, forcing breathless moans out of his gut.

He wondered what he must look like, sweaty and red and covered in spit and cum, hardly able to keep his eyes focused on the crimson ones above him, lost in a haze of pleasure and pain, spent and used and completely at his mercy. He could see a grin on the elegant snout, something like _adoration_ in what he could see of his eyes.

He did want to see him writhe beneath him, didn’t he? He said he was _beautiful_ like this.

Lucio slowly stretched his legs, arching his hips further up as well as he could, his head lolling back against the throne, his own eyes falling closed in something like bliss. Time had lost its meaning again, nothing left but the thrusts and grunts and moans.

He felt the heat of his tongue and the points of his teeth against his throat, labored panting against his skin, murmuring something in some eldritch tongue he would never be able to understand but made his pulse flutter and breath hitch regardless. He wondered how long he’d wanted to do this to him, if he’d been considering this before he knew of their connection.

The cock abruptly slammed completely into him and stayed there, something he wasn’t sure was _not_ a bleat muffled against his skin as a burst of heat and wetness filled him, a shudder of climax running through his own body without the additional spray.

“ _Fuck_..”

The Devil slowly pulled out, cum flooding out between his thighs, further soaking him and the throne beneath him in it as its owner simply stood there and gazed down at him with that same distant approval. “Was that too much?”

He weakly shook his head, realizing once again that he couldn’t move.

“.. was that.. was that _entertaining_ enough.. ? I-I can.. I can keep going..”

“With _what_?” He chuckled. “You don’t have an ounce of energy left in your body.”

“I can do it. I’m-- I’m a good entertainer.”

Distantly he felt warm hands against his body, lifting him off the throne. He wasn’t sure what he intended to do with him, and he still couldn’t move, limp in his grasp.

“I’ll ride that dick til my ass falls off if it means you won’t destroy reality. I’ll fuckin’ do it.”

“Yes, yes, a heroic sacrifice,” The Devil laughed. “But for now I believe you should go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was absolutely a bleat


	5. You Abandoned Me Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you okay, Lucio?”
> 
> The grip around his waist tightened. “... no.”
> 
> “Bad dream?” He felt a slight nod between his shoulder blades. “.. do you want to talk about it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> processing trauma w/ your loved ones part 1 out of many
> 
> this ended up more dialogue heavy than anticipated and may not flow great but am mostly tryin to get back in the headspace for these dummies

“You abandoned me again.”

Julian felt a creak of weight behind him on Arsenic’s bed, the warmth of a body tightly pressed against his back, arm just as tightly hooked around his waist as though he might vanish if it was any looser.

“I’m sorry, Arsenic wanted to discuss some things and the time got away from us.” He glanced helplessly towards his spouse, who was frowning over his shoulder. 

“Are you okay, Lucio?”

The grip around his waist tightened. “... no.”

“Bad dream?” He felt a slight nod between his shoulder blades. “.. do you want to talk about it?”

Even before he finished asking, he was anticipating a negative response - after all, Lucio still had that tendency to keep troubling things to himself, pretending they didn’t exist, either because he didn’t want them to worry or he just didn’t want to deal with it himself.

“.. will it make it go away?” His back murmured after a moment, surprising both of them. 

“It couldn’t hurt to try.” Arsenic said with a soft smile. “You don’t have to hide back there, you know. You can get in the middle.”

After another, much longer moment of clear deliberation, the grip finally loosened, another shift of weight heralding Lucio’s arrival in between them, flopping down on his back and immediately grabbing for both of their shoulders to pull them closer until he was practically crushed in the middle.

Neither of his spouses spoke, allowing him to process his thoughts on his own time. Julian draped an arm over his chest and rested his head against his neck, somewhat curling his body around him, hoping it might help him feel a bit more secure. He could feel him trembling.

“I became the Devil, like I was supposed to.” Lucio sighed after a moment longer. “No, I think maybe I just  _ was  _ the Devil, but also me. Dream bullshit. I-- was doing what he does. Conquering the realms. Destroying reality.”

_ And I liked it _ , he clearly wanted to say, and Julian managed to repress a shudder.

“And-- you were there, Jules.” Trembling fingers were stroking through his hair. “You were mine. You were in chains, maybe as many chains as I used to be under. And yet-- it wasn’t enough.”

The stroking paused, becoming a tight grip against his scalp. “So I added one more. Just one. And then-- then you started becoming older,  _ ancient _ , crumbling into dust under my chains before I could set you free. There was nothing left.”

Lucio’s fingers slid out of his hair, curling around his own body, curling up between them.

“I tried to fix it. I tried so hard, but I couldn’t-- you were just  _ gone _ . And then-- you--” Glancing towards Arsenic. “I tried to tell you what happened, but you wouldn’t listen. You kept calling me a murderer and a monster. You bound me up and left me to die, stuck as a statue in his realm like he was, except -- I knew no one would come back for me. No one’s that stupid but me.”

Tears were welling up in his eyes, voice ticking up into an anxious wail. 

“And then I woke up and Jules wasn’t there and I was so sure I really _ had _ killed you-- I’m sorry, Jules, I just didn’t want you to leave--”

“Look, hey, it’s okay, I’m not dust, see?” Despite feeling rather unsettled by the whole story, not just the part where he died, Julian leaned over to kiss his cheek. “It’s not real. None of that was real.”

“But it could have been!” Now he was crying outright. “It could’ve happened! He told me-- if I kept you, I’d resent your mortality. What if I’m-- what if me being  _ like this  _ means I’m gonna outlive you?? Both of you?? I don’t wanna be alone again.”

Julian once again glanced towards his spouse in alarm. “Is that possible?”

Rather than answer him immediately, Arsenic shifted closer to Lucio, curling up against his other side. Their expression was pensive, a bit troubled, and he couldn’t help but notice he tensed beneath them. 

“I don’t know.” They said, finally, reaching up to stroke his mane. “We’ve got at least fifty more years until any of us have to worry about that, I think. Maybe more, if you old sods keep in good health.”

“M’not old.” Lucio sniffed, but he seemed to be calming down a bit.

“.. I’m not going to bind you for eternity, either. Even when you were in danger of becoming the Devil - I feel like Julian would have ripped a hole through dimensions specifically to cry on me.”

“Not just crying. Maybe a bit of wailing, offering myself up as a replacement..”

Arsenic snorted. “I can bind you in a much less  _ magical  _ sense any time.”

“Promises, promises.” His attempt at a rakish grin quickly faltered as he noticed his husband’s face, still very much haunted by what he saw. "I-- ah, take it talking about it isn't helping much after all, is it?"

He sniffled again and shook his head. “I killed you, Jules. It was my fault.”

Julian pulled him that much closer and gently took his golden hand, which immediately clamped down on his in a vice grip. “I’m not an expert in dreams, but from previous experience, this sort of thing simply means you’re scared of losing what you have. It’s not a prophecy.”

“Given how much you’ve lost already, I’d be surprised if you  _ weren’t  _ worrying about that,” Arsenic added, moving to take his other hand in theirs and relenting immediately when he pulled away. “Sorry-- I know you still don’t trust me, but I’m willing to work with you on that. It’s okay. We're in this together.”

His tail coiled more tightly around his leg, something like guilt flickering across his face before slowly, awkwardly offering that hand back out to them, palm up, eyes down. Julian wondered if it was less about Arsenic themself and more of the principle of the thing - he had already lost the other hand, this one was twice as precious.

They moved to take it again, then hesitated with a frown. "If you don't want me to touch you, you don't have to force it."

He just whined and grabbed their hand himself, probably not as gently as they would have taken his.

"We're in this together." Lucio repeated, firmly, as if to convince himself. 

His eyes flicked towards Julian, searching for either assistance or approval, made that much more heartbreaking by the remnants of tears glittering in them.

".. aren't we?"

A slight smile played along his own lips. "Through hell and high water, and the whole damn tarot deck."

His husband visibly relaxed at hearing his own words, settling further down in the pillows between them with a wide yawn, exposing too many sharp teeth. They swiftly disappeared behind a tired little pout.

"And stupid nightmares." He sighed, then glanced between his spouses. "What were you talking about before I came in?"

"Oh, you know, just boring pirate stuff," Arsenic answered first with a slight smile of their own.

His pout deepened. "I'm a pirate too. I wanna know pirate stuff."

"You have some ways to go before you're truly a salty sea dog, I'm afraid." Julian chuckled, gently patting his belly, gratified to find it was no longer sunken in. "All that soft living."

"Oh, come on, Jules, teach me pirate stuff. I'm salty as hell." 

He just laughed and shook his head, inciting the older man to gently shove at him, whining like a spoiled child. It was a vast improvement from the emotional torrent before. 

"I can loot! And pillage! And hoist all the colors!" More whining. "I was a mercenary once, I can handle it! Jules!"

Something other than the clumsy gold and flesh hands pawing at him smacked him in the face, dark fabric and plush softness of one of Arsenic’s pillows, clearly chucked at him instead of the actual instigator in case it might scare him off.

It had the additional effect of Lucio immediately draping across his chest as a half-demon shield with a rather betrayed-sounding gasp, clutching the offending pillow to his own chest as if holding onto important evidence.

"If you wanna be a good pirate, you have to follow the captain's orders.” Arsenic snorted, raising another pillow in mock threat. “And the captain says go the fuck to sleep. Both of you."

Lucio gave a dramatic sigh and relinquished his position in order to start getting up from the bed, only to be tugged back down in between his spouses before he could get very far.

"Where are you going??"

"My quarters?"

The captain gestured at the room around them. "Also your quarters. Our quarters."

"Ah, you'll never have this bed back, now," Julian sighed, as his husband snuggled in more comfortably between them, his tail gently wagging when he leaned in for a kiss.

"It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. Now go to sleep, you hooligans."


	6. Old Scars, New Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “.. why.. why would you do this to me..” Lucio’s voice weakly rasped against his ear, more blood than breath. “I thought.. you loved me..”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i may revisit the murder of count lucio as a standalone thing, but for now u get 2x julian angst combo
> 
> warning: gruesome death description(s)

“Jules–?”

They both stared down at the blood pouring between trembling fingers, tightly twisted in soaked red silk as though holding the robe together would keep the wound closed as well.

When Julian looked up, Lucio’s eyes were wide and betrayed, frightened tears beginning to fall as freely as the blood. “Y-you–you were supposed to find a _cure_.”

“.. I did.”

He was shaking his head, shaking all over, golden hand weakly smacking against his cheek in what he realized was supposed to be a slap but only ended up as a rough caress.

“I didn’t want this one!”

Julian’s own hand dropped the knife in order to curl around it, holding it close. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Instead of trying to pull away, the dying Count leaned into his murderer’s chest, sobbing into his shoulder. He could feel his hands desperately pawing at his clothing, tugging and pushing at his chest, clearly torn between trying to fight him and keeping him close, blood flowing more freely between them.

“Jules, please. I can’t– I’m scared. I don’t want to die.” The ache in his own body was beginning to fade with Lucio’s strength, indicating the Hanged Man was right. He wasn’t sure if it was any better than if he was wrong. “You have to fix it. Y-you.. you have to. Please, fix it.”

His heart sank lower. He was killing him, and yet he still trusted him to _help_ him. He wouldn’t know who else to trust. He was sickened by the amount of power in his hands.

“I am fixing it. I’m so sorry.”

“.. please…”

He held him close, stroking his hair as the sobs against his neck petered out into broken wheezes, his body slowly sagging further against him, grip going slack, unable to do much more than lie in his arms and bleed. There was nothing left to do but wait, wishing he'd done this quicker, cleaner, more _humane._

He was a _doctor_. He should have known how to do this without making him suffer.

“You weren’t supposed to wake up. You weren’t supposed to _know._ ”

“.. why.. why would you do this to me..” Lucio’s voice weakly rasped against his ear, more blood than breath. “I thought.. you _loved_ me..”

The word pierced through his heart and the veil of the past at once, realizing that this wasn’t right. This wasn’t how it happened. The man that had to die to save Vesuvia was not the same one that loved him.

Except that it was, onyx horns poking through limp golden hair, spiderweb scarring across blanched, bloodless skin, the body in his arms just as thin but far older, twisted by the Devil’s magic. Blood still soaked into the sheets beneath them, consuming the red and turning it black. He was distantly aware he should have been dead already.

Julian immediately slammed his hand against the wound in his gut, trying to staunch the bleeding. He barely flinched. “Stay with me, okay? I-- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-- I didn’t want to do this to you. I never wanted to do this to you. You have to believe me.”

“Y-yes you did.” Blood was pouring from his mouth as well as his gut, eyes unfocused and yet piercing into his soul. “You all did. I heard you. I trusted you and you wanted me dead.”

_Well, there is the Plague of course. But if we wanted him gone sooner.._

He shook his head and tightened his grip, tears pooling in his own eyes like blood. “Just-- just stay with me and stop talking, I’m going to fix this. Okay? Stay with me. Save your strength.”

His eyes closed, trying to focus on the wound itself. Scrabbling for a whisper of magic like a child grabbing for the hand of its mother, trying to remember the healing spell Arsenic had taught him. This was so much worse than a few cuts, wasn’t it? This was innards.

He hadn’t learned innards. 

The magic flowed through his hands like blood pouring out of the wound regardless, seeping inside his patient. Sew it shut. You’ve done this countless times. It comes naturally to you--

Except that his magic was so much hotter than it should be, burning his hands. 

“Jules-- wait-- stop--”

He opened his eyes in time to see flames pouring out of the wound instead of blood, gushing outward with the same veracity. Lucio abruptly shoved him back as if to spare him from this, a horrible sort of _brightness_ just beneath the skin before it began to crackle and curl open, exposing charred bone and raging fire, leaking out of his scars like cracks in porcelain china.

In an instant the entire room was up in flames around them as he knew it should be - but it was Lucio he watched, helpless, paralyzed, as the fire slowly consumed him, burning him alive from the inside out. 

He couldn’t stop it. Didn’t know how to stop it. He couldn’t save him this time, either.

His right arm lifted as it was burned away, little more than bone and sinew reaching for him, bright orange flames pouring out of his mouth as it opened far too wide, stretched in a ghoulish half-burned caricature of desperation, frightened red and silver eyes melting away in their sockets.

“ _Jules, help me_ \--” The specter shrieked, a haunting primal wail he’d only heard before at the Lazaret, fear and pain and anger. It was horribly familiar.

“I’m sorry!” Julian screamed back as the fire overtook him as well.

***

He was still screaming when he jolted awake in his bed, only stopping when he saw those same red and silver eyes staring up at him in confusion, his husband crushed up against the wall by his frenzied movements in the night.

Without a second thought he grabbed hold of Lucio and pulled him close, burying his face in his mane with a loud sob. “I’m sorry-- I’m so sorry--”

“Jules? What’s wrong? More night terrors?” 

He felt his arms curling around him, just as tight, a sense of security he didn’t deserve. He was a monster and a murderer. He shouldn’t have been allowed to come back. He should have taken his punishment.

“I _killed_ you--” Now the tears came. He didn’t deserve them either. “You trusted me and I murdered you in cold blood--”

He felt him stiffen in his arms, grip around his own waist faltering, and he whimpered, waiting for him to drop him and leave him like he deserved. 

Instead, the hands moved to grab onto the sides of his face, pulling him down until he was directly facing his husband, forcing him to look into those eyes again. There was clear pain in them. “It didn’t happen like that, remember? You didn’t do it.”

“But I intended to. I was coming to kill you when you--” 

“Shh.” He leaned up to press a quick and rough kiss to his lips. “You _didn’t_.”

The kiss slowly helped him regain his bearings, remembering where he was, how much of that wasn’t real. Couldn’t be real. Lucio was here, in his arms, unburned, all of his blood inside him where it belonged. He’d killed him with _magic,_ for fuck’s sake _._

He hadn’t thought about this in years. He thought he’d come to terms with it. When the Devil had tried to use it against him, Arsenic had helped him break free before he could make that awful choice. 

But he’d carried that guilt for three years, it clearly intended to linger. The fact that Lucio loved him now only made it worse.

The tears were still falling, and he didn’t bother to try to hold them back.

“I watched you burn, Lucio.” Julian said, finally, kissing him back and trying to ignore how he expected the taste of charred meat. “It was my fault. I tried to save you and you burned alive in front of me.”

“... you’ll forgive me if I can’t remember that part.” 

“In-- in the dream. I dreamed it.” Gods, he hoped it was just in the dream. 

After a moment, his husband gently nudged him onto his back so that he could lie on top of him, a half-demon pressure blanket. “Well, Jules, I’m not an expert in dreams - but from personal experience, that sort of thing usually means you’re scared of losing what you have.”

Julian blinked, then laughed, an awkward little honk that lifted some of the darkness from his mind, and he could see Lucio was grinning above him.

“Is that so?”

“I heard it from a very reliable source. He can be a bit of a downer sometimes, but he’s really good at stuff like this.” Another, gentler kiss. “ _Cares_ a little too much, but you get used to it.”

He sighed. “There’s nothing wrong with _caring,_ you know.”

The grin fell, scarred right hand coming up to brush away his tears.

“.. I don’t like seeing you all fucked up like this. It hurts.”

“Yes, that is a symptom of caring. You care about me.”

Lucio sat up in order to frown at him, looking genuinely upset by this. “How the hell do you _live_ like this, Jules? Is that why you’re a masochist??”

“I-- no, that would imply I _want_ to--” He shook his head again, trying not to think about that. “Surely I can’t be the only person you’ve ever _cared_ about? Not even in the, uh, love capacity. Just in general.”

“... I care about my dogs.”

“That’s not a person.”

“They’re better than people.” 

“What about Nadia?”

He flinched. “... I don’t remember. It hurts for a different reason now.”

Julian sighed and leaned up to kiss him again. “You’re going to have to learn to care about other people besides me, you know. I won’t always be here.”

As he pulled away, the lips he’d just kissed twisted into a pout, a very stubborn, imperious look in his husband’s eyes. He stared down at him for a long moment, tail twitching.

“No.”

“No??”

“You’re trying to make it about me again.” He explained. “My _issues_.”

He felt a flush of shame creeping up his face. “You started it.”

“Shut up and tell me how to make you feel less like shit.” Lucio grunted and jabbed him in the chest with a finger, approximately near his heart. “Because I _know_ you still feel like shit. It doesn’t go away that fast. Mine didn’t.”

Despite the brusque tone, he was taken aback by the _concern_ in his words. In his face. More obviously showing that he did, indeed, care about him. It was an odd mix of guilt and giddiness in his chest, unsure of how to process it. 

He wondered if this was how Lucio felt when _he’d_ displayed such concern before.

After another long moment, he reached up and gently cupped one cheek, not as gaunt as it used to be, and immediately he leaned into his hand as if this was the first time he’d been touched all over again. 

“You being here, alive and well, is a good start.” Julian sighed. “Though I suppose that’s also why it’s come back to haunt me. I _am_ scared of losing you. Terrified. That wasn’t there before. I didn’t have to think about your safety, only-- you know.”

He gestured vaguely at his horns with the other hand. 

“My mistakes?” 

“... I meant the Devil, but yes. That too.” He felt him start to withdraw, and quickly kissed him again, more thoroughly stroking his cheek. “It isn’t your fault. I mean-- I suppose in a way it is-- looking at you, I see both my greatest failure and my newfound success.”

Lucio said nothing, only whined and bit down on his own lip, and he knew he was trying to fight back the urge to call himself a failure. 

“Now, now make no mistake-- this is good. You being here. It’s good. I didn’t expect it would be when I first saw you at the Raven, but it is. You’re here, and you’re-- you’re getting better. You care about me. You _love_ me. Years ago-- I never thought you were capable of it.”

“So.. you dreamed of killing me.. because I’m getting better??” His tail curled around his leg, something between confusion and hurt on his face.

“Because I don’t want to ruin that for you. Like-- like I usually do.”

“If anybody’s going to ruin it, it’s probably me, don’t worry.” A wry smile took the place of the pout, once again lowering himself down on top of Julian’s chest, nestling his head under his chin. “... I don’t want to ruin it, either. This is nice.”

Julian settled back down against the pillows, gently running his hand along his back, drinking in his warmth. “Even with all the _feelings_?”

“.. yeah. I think I’m starting to like that. The whole-- being _vulnerable_ thing, together.”

A pause.

“Don’t you dare tell anybody I said that.”

He chuckled. “Your secret is safe with me.”

SIlence fell over the room, allowing them to simply relax together, still stroking along his hair and his back, watching his tail lazily wave back and forth, not quite a wag but something like it. The claws of fear and guilt had mostly faded by now, but he wasn’t sure he could sleep.

“Did talking about it.. help you? Are you still fucked up?” Lucio’s voice murmured against his neck after a while longer. He sounded just as awake as he was.

“Darling, I’ve always been fucked up.” Julian grinned. “Would you like to continue this over some Golden Goose? I think I’ve got some stashed away in the galley.”

“Wh-- we could have been drinking it away the whole time??” 

“That isn’t healthy, you know.”

He felt a playful shove against his chest. “I demand _reparations_ , Julian Devorak.”

“Of course, Lucio Devorak.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lucio wasn't sure if 'no one did it' would help in these circumstances, and its been long enough he may not remember the real events all that much either


	7. Sensation Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /Now that presumably you’re finished with your tantrum,/ The Devil continued, idly. /I want you to put that dreadful mimicry of my face on your head./
> 
> “What? Why?”
> 
> /Just do it. I have an idea./

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i intended to finish a different chapter for a different fic but ended up inciting increased devil-fuckery in a groupchat so here u go
> 
> 2nd date with the devil: magical phone sex

The captain's private bathroom was nowhere near the scale of his old bath in the Palace, but it was a lot bigger than Julian's dinky little washroom - and more importantly, it was _private_. No one but he and his spouses were allowed back here, and he had locked the door, keeping even his spouses out. 

It had nothing to do with his feelings towards the spindly, awful animal limbs poking above water, and everything to do with the painted skull gripped in both hands, gazing at him with implacable empty sockets.

He wasn't sure how much the crew or his spouses knew about being able to talk to the Devil with this thing. He wasn't exactly keen on finding out.

"So-- what do you want for the next visit?" He began, unsteadily, a flush of heat creeping up his face at the thought of the last time. "It doesn't have to be, you know-- we could have a picnic, or I could teach you how to play Tarot-- don't worry, it's easy, you just make it up as you go along--"

 **_What I_ ** **want** **_is to be released from this farcical agreement._ ** The Devil's voice cut through his thoughts, and he could hear clear disgust in his tone.

Lucio attempted a grin to hide the pang of hurt. "I've only been _once_ , you can't be tired of me already."

The grin faltered.

"Can you?"

The Devil scoffed. **_I was tired of you long before this began._ **

".. oh." 

He knew it had nothing to do with _that_ , but he found himself drawn to pull his thighs close together, tail curled around one leg. Surely he wasn't that bad of a lay. 

**Bored** **_of you, now that's a different matter._ **

The deep voice dropped into something of a purr, sending a shiver down his spine. Almost like the lazy caress of his claws along his back, trailing further down.. 

At once he began to regret doing this naked. "A-and are you--"

 **_If I was, you would know._ ** The Devil chuckled, the swirl of red in his mind that much warmer, almost playful. **_I don't know why you hesitate to offer me another taste of your body, given it's your best feature._ **

“That’s not what you said while you were in it the first time." 

**_You’re dodging the question._ **

He sank down in the water in shame, keeping the skull aloft. ".. it still kind of hurts. S'why I was trying to plan for _next_ time."

**_What if I want to have you now~?_ **

"Wh-- like right now?? I'm in the middle of a bath, I can't just--” And yet he was jolting upright in the tub, lurching towards the side in a cacophony of startled splashing. “Plus I've got to get Arsenic to agree to make a portal and they might have _questions--_ "

 **_It must not hurt that badly._ **

He could almost feel him grinning in his mind, forcing him to realize his current position - one hoof on the floor, awkwardly straddling the tub, clutching the skull close to his chest, dangerously close to galloping naked across the whole damn ship.

Lucio immediately whined and pulled himself the rest of the way back into the tub, flushing that much harder. “So you don’t actually want me now?”

**_Oh, on the contrary. I simply wanted to test your willingness._ **

“I oughta dunk you.” He pouted at the skull.

 **_Whatever shall I do, dry and undisturbed in my own realm, unaffected by the physical state of my tie to yours?_ **His theatrical tone almost reminded him of Jules, in a way - he could clearly picture him draping dramatically on his throne, an arm across his brow.

To make himself feel better, he dunked the skull in the bath anyway, muffled laughter echoing in his head. Pieces of makeshift paint began to flake off one of the markings, encouraging him to jerk it back up and pat it down with a nearby towel to louder laughter.

 **_Now that presumably you’re finished with your tantrum,_ ** The Devil continued, idly. **_I want you to put that dreadful mimicry of my face on your head._ **

“What? Why?”

**_Just do it. I have an idea._ **

Unsure of what this had to do with fucking him again, Lucio turned the mask around and lifted it to place it on his head in an old, practiced motion - only to be stopped by the scrape of bone on horn, very rudely reminding him he had _changed_ since the last time he’d worn it.

“It won’t fit anymore.” He whined. “The damn horns are in the way.”

**_Thread them through the eye sockets, it isn’t difficult._ **

He lifted it again, and then hesitated with a frown. 

“.. but how will you _see_?” 

The Devil sighed, his tone not unlike an advisor explaining some simple concept he’d managed not to grasp. **_The placement of its anatomy has no bearing on my link to it. Once again, I am wholly unaffected by the physical state of my tie to your realm._ **

The half-Devil repeated the words under his breath in a stupid voice, rolling his eyes before focusing on the task at hand. He slowly tilted the mask until his horns cleared the sockets, carefully guiding it down onto his head. The weight of it was still oddly comforting, even if it was more of a macabre hat, now.

There was a brief jolt of _something_ down his spine as the skull rested against his scalp, like a spark of magic, and at once it felt heavier and more comfortable, as if it had always been here. He was reluctant to take his hands off it, in case he needed to quickly toss it aside - for external _and_ internal reasons.

**_Now close your eyes and relax._ **

His voice was louder and clearer in his head, as if he'd never left. He hated that he liked that.

"Pff, we saw how well I relaxed the last time," Lucio huffed, but closed his eyes, tail twitching beneath the water. ".. you better not use this to jump through and _possess_ me again. That's breaking the contract. Stay on your side."

 **_Perish the thought._ ** He could feel him grinning again. **_You'll like this more than our previous arrangement, I assure you._ **

Against his better judgment, he slowly let go of the mask and rested his arms against the edge of the tub, reclining back in the water and allowing himself to relax, or as well as he could in this situation. The only thing that kept him from turning back was the thought that the Devil wouldn't break his contract. Try to circumvent it, maybe, but not break it.

He sucked in a deep breath to steady his nerves, pulse already pounding in his ears. A mix of excitement and fear once again pooled in his gut, unsure of what was going to happen next.

"O-okay. I think I'm ready."

The darkness behind his eyes turned a deep, rich red, like blood, an odd sort of warmth that had nothing to do with the water slowly spreading through his body. Not unlike drifting off to sleep, except that his mind was sharp and there was the steadily increasing feeling that he was no longer alone in this room.

Something brushed along his jaw, not unlike a caress, so vivid he instinctively jolted upright and snapped his eyes open to see who the hell had gotten in here.

The room was empty, the same as it was before, tinted red.

**_I believe I told you to relax._ **

The voice in his head was amused more than annoyed, perhaps enjoying his reaction to a simple touch, and he realized it was the Devil that had touched him. It felt as if he was right here with him. It still felt that way. As if he might turn around and see him hunkering over the tub.

“Sorry-- I-- I’m-- I don’t like not knowing where it’s coming from.” He swallowed and closed his eyes again, settling back down and trying to relax. “Just-- take it slow, okay?”

 **_You’re in luck, my delicate little flower._ ** The Devil purred. **_I intend to take my time with you._ **

“M’not a fuckin’ _flower._ ” 

The sensation of what he realized was a hand was against his jaw again, and this time he forced himself to stay still, allowing it to surprisingly gently tilt his head back. **_Then perhaps you should stop_ ** **wilting** **_from me at every given opportunity._ **

Before he had the chance to remind him of _why_ his instinct was to ‘wilt’ from his touch, the sensation moved, up along the back of his neck until he could feel fingers in his hair, tugging it back and holding him there as the heat of an inhuman tongue drew along his throat, occasionally joined by the pinpricks of sharp teeth in his skin, not to the point of drawing blood but close enough he whimpered.

He wasn’t sure what would happen to his body if it went through, if it would leave unexplainable red marks in his skin. It shouldn’t, but it felt like it should. It felt so real. 

**_Don’t give me any ideas about_ ** **marking** **_you~_ **

Lucio shuddered, the brief thought to ask him to do so somehow fluttering through his mind for just a moment before he felt the tongue move, tracing along his collarbones and down his chest, a dull ache left in the wake of it when it moved along his scars, the burn of desire quickly overtaking the faint burn of magic.

Another rough, warm hand was moving along his body, slowly exploring him, stroking and caressing, the faint pressure of claws drawing down his side to the inside of his thigh, casually, almost lazily nudging his legs further apart, as though they weren’t already beginning to splay wide open, pressed tightly against the walls of the tub.

The other hand soon moved down to join it at his hips, the tongue slowly winding further down along his stomach, quivering in anticipation with every stroke and dip inching that much closer to his aching cock. He remembered the feeling of that monstrous mouth devouring him from the rear, overwhelming and intoxicating. It would feel even better with his senses heightened like this, unable to see it but knowing it was coming.

His right hand twitched, ached to lunge forward and force him to finish that journey - but never moved, couldn’t move, he was paralyzed and helpless beneath him.

The feeling of the tongue abruptly stopped, replaced by the heat of his breath and the soft fur of his snout against his abdomen, animal lips lightly brushing against his shaft in an odd, almost reverent kiss that made his gut clench and his heart stutter. 

**_I move on my terms, Lucio_ ** . **_I’m not entirely sure you deserve this._ **

“Th-this was _your_ idea..” Lucio gasped, trying to fight against that paralysis to buck up against him, to no avail. “Please.. don’t stop..”

He could feel one thick finger lightly stroking along his shaft, winding it around him, _toying_ with him. **_Mm, you are rather desperate, aren’t you? Stop resisting me and I may show mercy._ **

“I-I’m not.. I don’t..”

With a soft whimper he tried to focus on that warm feeling of relaxation, rather than the paralysis caused by it, letting it draw him further down into oblivion. He could no longer feel the tub or the water, only the warmth and what felt like soft fabric against his back, not unlike his bed covers in the Palace, almost as if he was falling into bed.

The hands at his hips gripped his thighs and pinned him flat on his back as the overwhelming heat of the monster’s mouth enveloped his cock, inhuman tongue lathing and writhing against him, curling around him. He could feel the edge of his horns pressing into his thighs, forcing them to remain wide open, legs raised and head back, moaning helplessly beneath the onslaught.

God, it felt so good. 

He couldn’t rock his hips, but the motion of his head was moving them for him, an intense push and pull bouncing him against the bed, almost as if he intended to pull the rest of his body into his mouth somehow. His thighs were trembling in his grasp, already hot and slicked with overzealous saliva, nothing compared to the heat pooling in his gut, the wave of pleasure beginning to crest--

And then it _stopped_ , just on the edge, as though it had hit a wall. His gut seized, and his body juddered - but his cock was still hard, pleasure swarming him impotently without release. 

“What did you..?” He heard cruel laughter, and whimpered. “Let me finish. Please.”

**_You may finish when I allow it and no sooner._ **

The heat of the Devil’s mouth withdrew in favor of lathing his tongue along the length of him in broad, lazy strokes, cock to ass and back again, further soaking his shaking thighs in his spit, his aching, burning body holding onto every flitter and twitch against sensitive flesh, lolling around the rim before slowly pressing inside him, another jolt and shudder of climax he wasn’t allowed before it had barely dipped in.

“F-fuck.. Please…” 

**_Not yet_ **.

His tongue pressed further in, once again so much deeper than a human’s tongue would ever go, the sensation of it inside him almost more maddening than when it began to move, so much more _aware_ of it this time - how it stretched him with its girth, how it shifted and coiled against his inner walls, another intoxicating push and pull that moved his hips, fucking him with his tongue.

The pace was much less violent this time, but in this state it made no difference, every movement just as overwhelming, pushing him closer and closer to the brink, distantly hoping that maybe he would be able to cross the threshold and biting back another whimper when he hit that wall again, his entire body trembling beneath him, chest heaving in harsh panting breaths.

It kept going until he was forced to hit the wall at least twice more, feeling as if he’d gone through the wringer, his mind fuzzy and empty except for that thought of release. He distantly felt the Devil’s tongue withdraw, his legs falling back to the bed, little more than warm noodles haphazardly splayed across the sheets.

If he had been a mess the first time, this time he was more of a disaster. And he knew there was still more to come.

He could feel the Devil’s eyes roving over his body in predatory admiration, could almost _see_ him there in the darkness of his eyelids, surrounded by a twisted version of his own bedroom, red and black with dark sheets and macabre portraiture, hazy like a dream.

He knew better than to open his eyes, even now - in fact, he wasn’t sure he could.

The image faded back into blind darkness as he felt him move, a warm weight bearing down on him, broad, reverent hands once again slowly trailing along his sensitive body, now so keyed up the light touches felt like wildfire in his gut, the soft fur of his snout against his throat like a hand against his cock before they ever made it down between his legs again.

He felt the familiar heat of oils pouring between his thighs, further soaking his vulnerable ass. Making damn sure there would be no resistance, that the massive cock would slip right in. God, he wanted it. The hands and tongue felt real enough - he _needed_ to feel his cock inside him. Physically ached for it.

"Fuck me, please.." Lucio gasped, or would have if his mouth could form coherent sounds, coming out as more of a needy little slurred groan his tormentor no doubt understood just as well, and he heard a low chuckle against his ear, further stirring the fire in his gut.

Another full body judder and whimper of denied release escaped him as he felt the tip press against him, burning, inescapable pressure, the hands at his hips holding him still as it began to push its way inside him, a harsher burn of stretching him, splitting him, every vein and ridge once again so palpable against his skin, as if he was tightly clenching down on it despite his body being limp and relaxed, filling him so completely, almost too full. He wasn't sure if he could handle it _moving_.

The Devil's hand stroked along his stomach, feeling along the edge of his own cock jutting up into the skin, shuddering and gasping under two points of stimulation from a single touch, his own panting making it so much worse, his body trembling beneath the hand as it moved down to stroke his cock, just for a moment, clenching down on the cock inside him at another surge of pleasure stymied, hitting that wall so hard he nearly _screamed_.

 **_Mm, that is a lovely sensation._ ** The Devil’s voice purred, the hands moving to brace against his hips, shaking thighs wrapped around a body nearly as warm as the burning thing inside his guts. **_Do it again._ **

The cock abruptly _slammed_ the rest of the way into him, fully sheathed in his body, a body that jerked up against him as if lightning had struck it, juddering and clenching with a helpless whine.

**_Beautiful._ **

“Hnn.. please.. it hurts.. I can’t--” 

His grip on speech was lost again as he felt him start to thrust, deep and ruthless, bouncing his hips against the bed, slamming against the edge of pleasure each time the cock slammed into his guts, driving him further down into oblivion with every thrust. Filled and emptied and filled again, little more than a slicked, trembling vessel for that cock, everything inside him burning all over again.

He was distantly aware he was sobbing, begging, crying out for release, please god he couldn’t take much more of this, and he could hear him growling or purring against his throat, only encouraged to thrust harder and faster and push him harder against the edge, a mix of agony and ecstasy thrumming through every inch of him until it felt as though he might burst.

What would happen if he did? Was it possible to die from this??

The angle shifted, a hard pressure against his chest pinning him down against the bed as the cock remained deep inside him, barely leaving his body at all. Something inside him snapped, or popped, a subtle shift that allowed him to encroach further on that edge without resistance, rising higher and higher until he’d gone past it, his body expecting to be stopped and not realizing it wasn’t.

Until it all came crashing down at once.

What felt like _centuries_ of pressure lifted, exploded out of him as though his soul had left his body, a wave of pleasure and _relief_ so intense washing through him that he briefly wondered if anyone else would be able to feel it, his heart stuttering and for one frightening moment coming to a halt. A sudden surge of molten liquid inside his guts further engulfed him, overwhelmed him, hot and painful and yet just as intoxicating as he came down, filling him all over again, a second wave of pleasure just as harsh and twice as ruthless carrying him out to the metaphysical sea, his consciousness dragged down in the undertow.

The next thing he knew, he distantly felt his head hit something harder than a bed, that pressure against his chest so much harder, crushing him beneath it. His body was still paralyzed, unable to move or thrash against it, gasping for air and only breathing in water instead.

He was drowning. He was drowning in the goddamn bathtub.

A harsh knock against the door outside startled him into movement, breaking him free of his trance. He could distantly hear the murmur of human voices, reminding him of where he was.

“--ucio? Are you okay in there?”

Lucio surged upright with a gasp and a harsh cough, immediately grabbing the mask and yanking it off his head, still shaking. He was almost relieved he couldn’t feel or hear the Devil anymore - for a brief moment, he’d thought he was actually _here_.

“I, uh-- yeah.” He coughed again. “I fell asleep.”

Arsenic’s voice huffed. “Don’t do that, that’s not safe. Especially at your age.”

“I’ll be out in a minute, you little brat.” 

“That’s _captain_ brat to you, old man.”

He rolled his eyes and waited to hear them move away from the door before returning his attention to the skull in his grip, panting hard as he tried to gather himself. God, he felt as if he’d been keelhauled and then fucked with the anchor. He wasn’t sure he would be able to get out of the tub.

He shivered at the flicker of red in his mind, though it was much less than before. As if the Devil was merely observing him.

“O-okay, that was fun, I think,” He managed, finally. “But I think-- I think I’m just going to come to you next time.”

**_Mm, I suppose I could arrange something similar in person._ **

Fuck.


End file.
